The Savior
by LindsaylovesPacey
Summary: The Governor is coming and the Prison Group have to decide to stay or leave. But how can they leave when one of their own might possibly be a walker in the morning?


**Disclaimer: I do not own The Walking Dead or am I in any way affiliated with the producers or directors.**

The Savior

_Last time on The Walking Dead: "I'm not your 'Governor', so I'm putting this to the group. We can either stand and fight or we can cut our losses and move on"_

A unified silence fell upon the prison habitants as each and every one looked to their "fearless leader" or so they had thought that's what Rick Grimes was. Maggie and Glen, the newly engaged couple, shared similar glances. Were they really ready for this? To leave the home they had made here; within the safety of cinderblocks and chain-linked fencing. Hershel cast his eyes on Rick with something akin to admiration. He wanted to keep his daughters safe. He was certainly relieved when Rick couldn't turn Michonne over to that evil, deranged Philip man; the one-eyed "governor". Carol had been bouncing Judith lightly in her arms as they discussed their options. She glanced around at the faces surrounding her. Where was Daryl? Shouldn't he have been back by now?

"Where the hell is Daryl?" She finally spoke, her fear for the country man had overwhelmed her thoughts. There was a shuffle from somewhere off to the right, near the open door they all had come.

"Here I am." Daryl answered the lady's question. She could tell something was wrong, really wrong. Daryl's voice was emotionally thick, there were clear streaks down his otherwise grimy cheeks. His crossbow was slung across his right shoulder as always. There was more blood splattered on his sleeveless flannel shirt than there had been before he left.

"What happened out there, Daryl? Where is your brother?" Rick immediately jumped in, his conscience gripping his insides a little tighter. He had that feeling of dread. He almost didn't want to know, but he asked because he could tell his friend wasn't this disheveled for nothing.

Daryl took a deep breath before speaking. His shoulders lifting with his inhale and relaxing with his exhale.

"That bastard is goin' down! He turned my brother into a fucking walker!" Daryl screamed, his voice sounding more like a wounded animal than a man. The tears flowed once more before he explained how he'd stabbed his brother five or six times.

Everyone began giving condolences left and right. Not a one had seen Daryl this distraught since the day they had told him they had left his brother handcuffed to a rooftop. He put up his hands and began walking backwards. His silent plea to be left alone quickly registering with the group; the only family he had left. Daryl was almost inside when Rick spoke up again.

"We've decided to pack up and leave. I don't want anyone to risk their safety or the safety of the group anymore. The Governor is coming and I want us to be long gone before he realizes what's happened. Are you with us? I know you're hurtin' right now, Daryl. And I know you want vengeance; but we need to move and fast." Rick stepped up to his second in command. The man he most counted on, hoping like hell Daryl would still go with them. The man sniffed a few times, side stepped a few times as well. As had become his eccentric habit. That was how Daryl sorted his feelings out.

"Yeah, all right. But if that asshole comes after us, I wanna be the one that takes his mother fucking head off." Daryl watched Rick nod, which meant he was in full agreement. Then Daryl continued inside the prison. The others following behind in an instant.

It was hard for anyone to sleep that night, the plan heavily sitting on their hearts. And the grief they felt for their fellow family member wasn't helping matters much either. But with chaos surrounding them, they really didn't have time to wait for things to simmer. They had to get supplies and figure out what they were going to take when they fled their home.

Rick was talking with Hershel the next morning while the others began packing up what they could, loading the vehicles with as little as possible. Which was next to nothing, though they knew the member whom needed the most in all this was "lil ass kicker".

Daryl overheard Rick saying he and himself would have to scour for more baby formula and diapers. Daryl knew Rick was needed most here at the prison so he offered his services and told Rick maybe Carol should go with him. She seemed to be the easiest person here for him to talk to. He wasn't quite sure why, maybe it was that odd bond they had begun when Sophia was missing and they had worked very closely together to find her. All because Daryl had appreciated them helping him look for Merle. He felt as if he owed a favor to the group and that was his first initial way of fitting in, he supposed. Carol seemed a little off kilter because he'd asked her. But she knew that Daryl was a man of few words and if he had anything to say, he knew she'd listen and not tell anyone if he asked her. So the two set off in the nearby town where they normally looked for supplies. Though, both seemed to face the fact it would be slim pickings now because they had pretty much gotten what they could. Maybe they would find another town, not Woodbury; obviously, but another small country town in the big state of Georgia.

They set off early that morning and hoped they would make it back before nightfall. Considering the walkers that surrounded the prison now thanks to that damn man.

"You just stay close, ya hear? I asked you to come cause I thought it would give you something to do 'sides watching Judith." Daryl began, he wasn't sure how else to explain to Carol why it was her he had chosen and no one else. She nodded her head and readied her gun and knife. The one he'd given her and also taught her to wield. They got out as soon as they could, with Carl and Beth locking the gate behind them. Both adults riding in the car so they'd have more room to carry whatever it was they were able to scrounge.

The nearest town was a small one and looked like all the rest; abandoned cars littering the roadsides, dilapidated houses, some empty businesses. They came across a large brick structure. The sign was barely visible, it had been weathered with neglect for so long. Carol thought it looked like a small grocery store. She followed all Daryl's commands as he executed them. All the while, she kept her eyes wandering their surroundings. He had brought a rucksack with him and so had Carol. The two went to filling one quickly with formula, bottles, diapers, wipes…anything they could find for the baby. Then filling the second with medications, water, canned foods and any other non-perishable items they could fit.

A shuffling caught Carol's attention, by the look on Daryl's face; he had heard it too. He had placed a finger over his lips as if to convey to her to be quiet. Soon he had tossed her both rucksacks and had slung his crossbow down into his left hand while taking an arrow from his quiver with his right. He whispered to her to move to the car, she shook her head no at first. Fearful of something happening to her friend.

"Damnit, Carol, just get your ass to that car! Wait ten minutes for me, if I'm not out there, you haul ass back to Rick and the others. Okay?" He harshly declared. Carol hesitated when she saw them, there were at least eight to ten walkers coming around the corner. The first few looked pretty average, graying skin, mangled limbs. It was a dead teenage girl that caught Carol's eye, this small petite killer looked almost like Sophia. The blonde hair was missing in places but she saw a similarity. Her body showed signs of the attack that had turned her; a bite on her upper right arm, a gaping hole on the side of her head where an ear had been bitten off. Then there was a bloated obese man whom reminded her of Ed; half his face was missing, along with an arm. The memories and association of her dead family froze her in place. Daryl yelled for her to go again after he'd stabbed three back to back. She glanced around, should she fire her bullets to help him? She didn't have many left and he would immediately call her out for being wasteful. Her heart beat accelerated. They seemed to keep coming in her mind's eye. She took a chance and dropped the rucksacks. She took her knife out and stabbed the bloated man in his good eye. Daryl still commanded her to run, though she wouldn't leave him; couldn't leave him. He had saved her and the others numerous times. So she went to work on another, a young man with a turned foot and three fingers missing from one hand. The teenage girl, however, she couldn't bring herself to do it. Daryl slammed his knife to the hilt in the back of girlie's skull. He retrieved his knife and physically pushed Carol towards the bags and the door. There were a few more walkers coming. So they both headed in the same direction, only Daryl didn't see the walker right behind him because he was watching Carol. The muscle bound dead man grabbed Daryl and bit him hard on the back of his arm. Somehow, Carol had wrestled Daryl away from his attacker and with all the adrenaline left in her body, hoisted him into the back seat of the vehicle. She had managed to close the door and climb into the driver's seat, slamming her foot on the accelerator. The whole time Daryl is wailing in the backseat about how she should have left him.

"What the fuck, Carol? I don't want to end up like Merle! You need to pull this piece of shit car over and put a bullet in my brain." He could feel the hot sticky liquid trailing down the back of his arm, "Fucker got me good. Carol! Are you listening to me? Pull. The. Fuck. Over. Right. Now!"

"NO! I'm not pulling over, Daryl. I'm not killing you, I…I can't. Maybe Hershel can cut the flesh, burn it or something to keep the infection from overtaking you." She felt she was muttering to herself. Daryl was still cussing a storm in the backseat. She tuned him out as best she could.

"Why won't this goddamn door open?" She heard him question. She sent a silent prayer to God for the automatic child locking doors that apparently had come standard with this model. Otherwise, Daryl most certainly would have thrown himself for the moving vehicle. Thinking he might could possibly keep himself from turning, Daryl pulled a strip off cloth from the upholstery making himself a turnakit; tying his arm as tightly as he could above the bite.

As soon as they were securely behind the prison gates, Carol jumped out of the car and rushed to Hershel. She frantically tried to explain the incident that had occurred in town while she and Daryl had been gathering supplies.

"Slow down, Carol. You mean Daryl was bitten? And you brought him back here?" Glenn asked, having overheard the conversation. Panic was evident in his voice. Carol shot him the most insufferable look she could muster.

"Yes, I brought him back here! He needs help, Hershel. Please, please tell me you can try _something_?" Carol's blue eyes were brimming with tears. She couldn't bare to lose another person she cared for.

"I might be able to. Where was he bitten?" Hershel, ever the calm and collective one, inquired.

"On the back of his arm, I'm not sure how deep it is." She worried her bottom lip between her teeth. What if the makeshift turnakit she'd seen Daryl make didn't stop the spreading of infection quickly enough?

Hershel ran a hand over the top of his head and pulled gently on his tiny ponytail. He looked at her with grave empathy. He remembered his wife all over again, the turning and the way he'd hoped for a cure to help her illness. He wasn't sure what he could do. He thought of removing the arm, but then infection could set in without proper medical supplies and then Daryl would experience the same death. Though, maybe, he could cut the arm off and stop it all together. Just as Rick had done with his leg.

"I might can sever that arm and hope God keeps him in His hands, as he did for me." Hershel replied sagely. Carol exhaled and nodded her head yes.

The group reached the car within seconds and looked at their friend. His face was sopping wet with sweat, the fever had already set in. Hershel reached out for the door handle, though Glenn opened it first. Daryl was moaning to Glenn.

"Just shoot me, man. I don't wanna end up like the others. Like Amy, or Jim. Please? I don't want my eyes to glaze over in the way that Merle's did. Fucking now's your chance, Chink! Kill me!" Glenn rolled his eyes, pulling Daryl from the car. Rick showed up at that moment demanding Daryl be locked in a cell until they could figure out what to do.

"Thank you, Rick. I don't want it to happen. I want Daryl to be okay. Hershel can prepare to operate." Carol pleaded, the tears streaming down her sunken cheeks. He just gave her a reassuring arm rub and herded the group inside.

Daryl was still putting up a fuss, begging and pleading. When that didn't work, he brought out every single offensive name he could think to call each person. "Chink" for Glenn, "old geezer" for Hershel, "ghost whisperer" for Rick. His words didn't seem to phase the men.

"I hate you, you bitch! For bringing me back here, for allowing me to turn into one of those geeks!" He cursed Carol, even though he knew his words cut her the deepest.

"I'm so sorry, Daryl. I didn't want anything to happen to you." She apologized as she disappeared into another cell to cry to herself.

Rick hadn't allowed Beth or Carl to witness this, he'd told them that Daryl wasn't feeling well. He told Beth to watch Judith and Carl to keep his position for the night in the tower. Then he sat down with the rest, minus Carol, and talked over their options.

"We don't have much time. He might turn in a matter of minutes or could be days. What do you think, Hershel? Wanna try cutting that arm off?" Rick was sitting with his elbows propped on his knees, his hands folded between them. Maggie kept her eyes trained everywhere but on Daryl in the locked cell. Glenn couldn't help wondering if they could be that lucky again. Cutting off his arm meant he wouldn't be able to shoot that bow. Which could hinder the entire group, because no one else could use the crossbow like Daryl. But it might help him, just as it had helped Hershel.

"Doesn't anyone wanna know what I think? Goddamn, it's my fucking arm. I ain't dead yet. Cut the som'bitch off!" Daryl reasoned from his current residency.

"Do you really want me to do that, Daryl? Really think about it. I can function with a partial leg. Could you function with just one arm?" Hershel wasn't trying to discourage his friend. He just wanted the young man to weigh his options. The four of them looked at Daryl then, wanting to know his decision. Because one had to be made and pretty damn fast.

"All right, you gotta point. I like my bow. Can we try burning it, maybe wait it out for a day? I know we need to go cause that devil is coming soon. But maybe I won't turn." Daryl's words shocked himself, they sounded more like Carol than they did him. The others looked at each other a few moments, trying to gauge the reactions of their fellow members.

"I think we should at least give him that. Maybe he won't turn, daddy." Maggie commented. Glenn shot his fiancé a look of disagreement.

"He's already got the fever, Mags. Do you not see that?" Glenn criticized her judgment.

"Just patch this up tonight, Hershel and we'll see how the night goes." Daryl finally rationalized. Hershel got up, gathered up some gauze and tape, and had the man put his arm through the bars. He wanted to keep Daryl safe, as well as the others. Once that was complete, Rick joined Carl in the tower.

The others went to lie down and try to get some shut eye before tomorrow. Because two things were possibly happening in the morning; Daryl would be a walker and they would have to kill him. Or he wouldn't and they would all pack up and leave the prison as soon as they could to avoid the Governor.


End file.
